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KILLIAN “Sleep tight and have an erotic dream where I’m eating your tight little pussy for dinner, baby.” I peek through my car window. “Or filling it with my cum. Either would do.” Glyndon comes to a halt and searches our surroundings for possible eavesdroppers, then glares at me. I love it when she glares. It’s my Glyndon’s love language. And because I love it, I push, “Unless you changed your mind and would rather spend the night in my bed, which is five stars, highly recommended?” “Dream on.” “I told you my dreams are much darker and kinkier than reality. So if you’re down to explore more of your sexuality, I’m game.” She spins around and faces me. Her cheeks are red and her honey-colored hair flies in the wind. Now, I don’t know what angels look like and probably never will—thank fuck I have a designated place in hell—but she’s the closest thing to an angel I’ve ever seen. My own angel. Glyndon stares at me with the crookedness of an amateur detective. “Did you do that a lot? Expl